Have you allowed nearly all of the summer escape you? Are you so dumb to have let that happen - all of that Vitamin D in the air in mega-doses, just covering everything you can see through your Ray-Bans or Blublockers and you not taking any of it in? Tsk tsk tsk! Here it is, the third week in August - yeah, the third week in August - and we haven't been to the beach, we haven't been to the swimming hole, we haven't gone fishing, we haven't gone to the drive-in theater out in the country, we haven't just taken the afternoon off in the middle of the week to stroll through a park - we've barely looked around and soon enough it's going to be fucking fall. Sure, it's a fine season, but it's also just the onset of the kind of weather that we hide from, that makes us cover everything we have in five layers and disappear for four months just so we can survive to live a hotter day in the future. Still Flyin', the San Franciscan monster band made up of members of the great, not-really-dead Masters of the Hemisphere and myriads of other groups over the years, doesn't concede these warm weather days to anyone or to any calendar. It encapsulates them and celebrates them in a form of joyous frenzy, an assembly of everything goes that feels like a fireworks display, plenty of weed smoking and a nimble form of leisure time passage that leaves you glowing for days, reinvigorating you enough to slog through a shitty day job without it feeling like slogging. The songs on "Never Gonna Touch The Ground," the band's debut full-length album that was released this past April, is a fling with dancehall rhythms, South American spirit, Oceanic waves, even tans, noodling ideas and thoughts full of oddities all getting out on the floor to cut it up. The smile that's there on your face, you may notice it now. It's there because of Still Flyin'. The band is working with you on that accessory and it's not going anywhere for the time being so just forget it, will you, and work on the other parts. They should be following the lead. Sean Rawls and Bren Mead, who were the two chief songwriters and vocalists for Kindercore Records' most talented band in Masters, are at the front here as well, with the sleepy and witty Rawls drawing on his many, many "lifejams" to create a new elixir, one of elation and conditions that alight a mood. It touches all of the pleasure centers a person can have, making you feel as if all of the sprinklers in the entire neighborhood are on and sending the water specks cascading in sinewy arcs - the rainbows playing off the mist - as everyone just throws their hands up, rips off their shirts and starts running through them.